


Just Reward

by arthurmorgan-s-heart (Silverblind)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, Sub Arthur Morgan, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 15:29:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17727869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverblind/pseuds/arthurmorgan-s-heart
Summary: Arthur needs to learn how to accept kindness from others.





	Just Reward

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request fill from my tumblr blog. Uploaded here for convenience - find me on tumblr - arthurmorgan-s-heart
> 
> Original request text: "Reader giving Arthur one of them healing blowjobs while he's still recovering from an injury, complete with pinning down his hips with their hands to keep him from bucking too much and going all slow and sweet-like. Just so he doesn't hurt himself, you see. Nooo other reason."
> 
> Combined with 
> 
> "Oooh sub Arthur! How about relentless praise kink where Arthur's s/o is cooing sweetness and petnames and encouragement at him, seeing and enjoying how he's going redder and redder from embarrassment and arousal as they get him off at their own syrupy slow pace and go even slower every time Arthur tries to speed things up to remind him who's in charge here."

“Stop worryin’, it’s just a graze.”

“Maybe so, but you lost a lot of blood. You tellin’ me you can’t stay put for three goddamn days, Arthur Morgan?”

He opens his mouth to reply, staring you down, but apparently finds no response as he closes his mouth and lays down on his bed to allow you to finish changing the bandage on his forearm. You chuckle quietly, despite your annoyance - you know he doesn’t like being stuck in camp, simply sitting around, doing nothing. But in just a few days, he’ll be ready to ride out again. The tent is dark and still, the noises of the camp seemingly far away through the thin canvas walls.

“There, all done,” you say with a smile after a few minutes of silence. Looking up at him, you see that he’s staring at the canvas above him.

“Coulda done it myself,” he mutters, making no effort to hide his frustration. Your smile fades as he turns his head to look at you, and his scowl softens as he reaches for your hand, squeezing comfortingly. “But - thank you.”

You sigh, shaking free of his grasp as you gather everything you’d used to patch him up, standing to put it all away in the medical box you’d left open on the table next to his bed. You can feel his eyes on you still, but you refuse to look at him.

“Why won’t you ever let anyone take care of you, Arthur?” you ask, methodically putting each item away - first the bandages, then the needle and thread. “Everyone here worries about you. _I_ worry about you. You’re always on your own out there and…” You sigh again as you turn to face him, meeting his eyes as you sit back down in your chair. “I just wanna help you.”

He looks at you in silence for a moment before he pushes himself up with a groan, holding his hand up when he sees you start to rise to force him back down, sitting himself on the edge of the bed. He reaches out with his good arm, taking your hand in his again, looking down as he brushes his thumb across your knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, looking back up to meet your eyes. “Just - I don’t know how.”

You clasp his hand in both of yours, squeezing tight. He always gave so much of himself, without ever asking for anything in return - at some point, you suppose that he had simply stopped expecting anyone to ever do anything for him, and had forgotten how to accept kindness from others in the same breath. The thought always saddens you.

“It’s alright,” you whisper, reaching up to cradle his cheek. He leans into your touch before turning his head to kiss your palm. If only you could give him as much as he gives you, as much as he gives everyone. You stand up, kissing the top of his head before slowly lowering yourself to your knees between his spread thighs, pushing your chair away with your foot. You feel him jump slightly when you place your hands on his knees, hearing his breath hitch in his throat when you look up at him.

“Sweetheart, what are - “ he starts as your hands slowly smooth up his thighs, his words trailing off into a groan when you press one hand against him, stroking the warm, familiar line of him beneath the thick fabric of his trousers.

“I’ll take care of you, Arthur,” you breathe, slowly undoing the first button holding his pants closed. “Do you want me to?”

You move on to the second button, and the way his breath stutters when you work it free is the only answer you need. You make quick work of the last one, and he lifts himself slightly off the bed to allow you to pull his trousers and underwear down to his ankles, slowly pulling them off him before returning your hands to his thighs, feeling him shiver under your touch as you scratch your nails lightly up the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, and there’s a sharp intake of breath above you when you finally take him in your hand, half-hard already.

“You sure that’s good for me?” he breathes teasingly, earning himself a smile as you stroke him gently, lazily - you feel his hips give a slight jolt at that, and a quiet groan escapes him.

“Only if you do exactly as I say,” you reply impishly. “Lay down.”

He does as he’s told, slowly leaning back until he’s propped up on one elbow, holding himself up with his good arm while the other one hangs at his side. You arch and eyebrow at him, stilling your hand and making him whine in protest.

“I told you to lay down,” you say sternly, chidingly, ignoring his pleading look as your grip loosens until you’re barely holding him - you wonder for a moment if he’ll resist, but you know him. You know he craves those moments where he can simply relinquish control and let someone else take over, for once.

“Sweetheart - “ he gasps, bucking into your touch, and you take your hand off him completely to press his hips down into the mattress, looking at him expectantly before he finally lets himself fall flat on his back - only then do you take him in your hand again, stroking slowly, steadily, basking in the quiet moan that accompanies every motion.

“Good,” you whisper. “Now, be still.”

You feel his eyes on you as you bring your mouth closer to him, brushing your lips against the sensitive skin of his length, up and down and up again, teasing him with the promise of the warmth of your mouth with tongue and lips and the barest hint of teeth.

“You always do so much for everyone,” you say as you press your lips to the side of him in an open-mouthed kiss, letting your tongue flick out for half a heartbeat - he growls out a curse, shuddering in want. “You deserve something in return, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t answer, and you take your mouth off him, your hand keeping up the languid rhythm you’d set as you meet his eyes. He’s breathing hard, eyes glossed over with need, mouth hanging half-open. A bolt of heat flashes through you at the sight - you don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of seeing him like this.

“Don’t you think?” you repeat pointedly, slowing the movement of your hand again until you’re barely moving at all.

“I don’t - “ he breathes, and you almost think that he might argue with you - _here, now_ . But his head falls back, and a single word escapes his lips. “ _Yes_.”

You smile as you bend over him again, rewarding him with a feather-light kiss at the tip of him. He bucks up into your hand at that, and you tut disapprovingly, leaning back despite his pleading moan. He whines when your hand moves again, even slower than before - the muscles under the hand you keep against his hip are wound so tight that you fear they might snap. You smile sweetly as you trail your fingers to his stomach, rubbing soothing patterns over the taut plane of skin. You see him squeeze his eyes shut, willing himself still with every ounce of control left to him.

“They’re lucky to have you,” you whisper, watching one of his hands curl into a fist while the other scrabbles at the sheets beneath him. You bring your mouth back down toward him, laying another kiss exactly where you’d pressed the first. There is a strangled moan, but he stays still this time, and you reward him with a bit more pressure, a bit more speed. “ _I_ ’m lucky to have you.”

He lifts his wounded arm to lay it over his eyes, and you can’t help but admire the way his chest rises and falls rapidly with each shuddering breath, the way his thighs shake around you, the light sheen of sweat that covers his neck, glistening in the flickering light of the lantern.

“You always work so hard,” you breathe before slowly licking a long, molten line along his length, and he shudders silently, gritting his teeth. “For all of us.” You do it again, and he holds his breath. “I’m so proud of you.”

He exhales loudly as he rolls his hips up into your hand, a long, thin moan clawing its way out of his throat as he lowers his arm, meeting your gaze again. His eyes are dark and wild, his cheeks flushed, gasping for breath as he tries to hold himself still again.

“Please, sweetheart,” he pants, whining when your hand tightens slightly around him. “ _Please_.”

Instead of answering, you simply lower your head, taking him into your mouth. He moans breathlessly, his hand coming to grasp at the one you still had pressed against his stomach, and you hum around him as you take him deeper. Bless him, he still tries to keep still, but he can’t help rolling his hips up into your mouth slightly - you decide to allow him that; he’d deserved it.

It only takes a few moments for him to come undone, and you pull off him as he shakes and moans, your hand replacing your mouth again, stroking fast and hard.

“There you go, love,” you breathe, and he thrusts up into your touch, eyes shut as his pleasure overwhelms him. “Come on.”

He gasps your name as he spills into your hand, moaning and shuddering at your whispered praise for a moment before he finally stills, his hips still twitching up into your grasp unwittingly.

“Such a good boy,” you whisper with a smile as you stand, smiling down at him before turning toward the small wash basin in the corner of the tent. You wipe your hands clean before dipping a washcloth in the tepid water, wringing out the excess water as you turn back to him. He watches you silently, still catching his breath, and you sit yourself down on the edge of the bed before reaching for him, keeping your touch light, though he still hisses at the gentle pressure of the cloth as you clean him.

“There,” you say after a few moments, letting the damp cloth fall to the ground - it needed a wash now, anyway. You smile down at him, and he reaches his hand out, drawing you down next to him. “All done.”

You allow him to steady his breathing before speaking again, tucking yourself against his side as his fingers find your hair. You look up to meet his eyes when he lets out a contented sigh, and he smiles as he turns his head to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You gonna stay in camp now?” you ask teasingly. “You’ve earned a few days off.”

He huffs out a laugh, his hand finding your back to pull you closer against him.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, maybe I have.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> First try at sub!Arthur... Not quite sure what to think about this


End file.
